Now What?
by DeansMuse
Summary: Season 8 AU. Alternative way for the trials. Spoilers through Taxi Driver. Mainly Destiel fluff for my muse. Male on male, graphic, EXPLICIT, non-to dub-con, rape like scene MAY CAUSE TRIGGERS. DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ. -Ch 3 EXPLICIT RAPE SCENE - PLEASE read with extreme CAUTION!
1. Now What?

_Oh, yeah, everything is unbeta'd. All my mistakes are my own._

_**Disclaimer: Kripke owns all Supernatural characters. I'm only borrowing them. **_

_**Pairing: Dean/Castiel - very graphic. This is my second attempt at something like this because this muse wouldn't leave me alone but I'm a slow learner. Please let me know what you think, constructively.**_

_**Warnings: Rated M for swearing, graphic sexual content with S and M undertones, implied forced sex and other adult subject matter. May be triggers for some: read with caution.**_

**Now What?**

"What the hell?" Dean growled irritably as the old abandoned farmhouse he had been fighting the massive black dog by disappeared from his peripheral vision at the same time as a supernaturally strong hand clamped down on his shoulder. He quickly spun around to face the new attacker only to see stunt demon number one back away with its hands raised in mock surrender. He gripped his shotgun tighter as he swiftly surveyed the area. "Oh, great. Now what?"

"Well, well, if it isn't our very own perfectly coifed, anatomically correct, Ken doll," Crowley commented drily.  
"I'm not _your_ anything, asshat," Dean argued adamantly. "What the hell just happened? And, what the . . . Kevin?" He questioned hesitantly as he spotted the battered prophet not far behind Crowley.

"Uh, yeah," Kevin answered hoarsely, in obvious pain. "Hey, Dean. Really, really sorry," he added with enormous shame and embarrassment while he ducked his head and slumped back into the old wooden chair. He had obviously been through the wringer.

"Damn it, Kevin. What the hell? Why . . ." Dean started then trailed off, cursing under his breath with weary resignation. He so didn't need this crap right now. Between Sam and . . . Crap. He really needed to get back to Sam and . . .

"Oh, now, don't get all upset with my prophet or Bobby, Jr. even. After all, you should know by now that the sequels are never as good as the originals. I mean, it takes more than an old torn up trucker's cap and the ability to say, 'Balls!', don't you think? Or was that all that Mr. Grumpy Pants was to you? Apparently I had more respect for the old geezer than his so-called adopted spoiled brats which isn't saying much as you well know."

"In any case, Gumby, the hunter, was unavoidably detained from his search for Mr. 'Advanced Placement' here," Crowley excused nonchalantly. "Inadvertently stumbled on to a demon worshiping cult of all things. What are the odds? After all, you know how often things can go . . . uh, what's the word you yokels use? Er, south? On a hunt, especially when _I_ want it to. See, I needed Kevin here and he needed to get desperate enough to leave his safe, safe house, boat. Some dreamwalking here, some delusions there, voices in his head following him everywhere and here we are. Game in check and minor celebration." Crowley ended as he materialized his favorite drink then saluted then took a sip.

"Of course," Dean scoffed dismissively while he finished scanning the area then he spotted Castiel standing in a ring of fire ten feet away. All of Cas's focus seemed to be directed to the task of making Crowley spontaneously combust. Dean slightly relaxed at the sight of his friend apparently whole and healthy as he mentally adjusted to the new playing field.

"So where's Sam?" Dean barked suddenly, remembering again the hunt he was on previously and how there were actually _two_ massive black dogs.

Crowley arched an eyebrow in response to massively aggressive tone from the cocky hunter but allowed generously, "Well, he could be front and center but I really didn't think you two were that close. Or in to that sort of thing really. Of course, the whole universe believes you are, and where there's all the talk, and where there is all that homoerotic subtext . . ."

"_Whoa!_ Whoa. Whoa. What?" Dean exclaimed in surprise at that very, very hated phrase, "homoerotic". "We're brothers, you sick, arrogant bastard."

"And?" Crowley wondered pointedly, enjoying the heightened color and emotion unintentionally displayed on Dean's cocky, pretty boy face.

"I'm NOT gay, you pompous douchebag!" Dean argued hotly. "Or into incest! Just what the . . . ugh! Know what. Forget it. Just tell me what the hell you want so I can say, 'no', and we can go back to despising and plotting against each other, like regular arch-enemies."

"Oh," Crowley commented with arched eyebrows, showing all the signs of shocked surprise and borderline disappointment. "Not gay, huh? So . . . seriously? Not overcompensating? Are we sure? Well, well, well, that does cause a bit of a problem."

"Always happy to hinder in any way possible," Dean snarked readily, trying to enjoy Crowley's disappointment, but it all felt too off for him to really allow himself the pleasure. He sensed that he really wouldn't like where this meeting was going. Hell, he already didn't like where it had been. But then again, when did he ever like it if Crowley was involved?

Crowley glanced at him in exaggerated surprise before he smirked mockingly and pointed out, "Oh, that doesn't hinder _me_ in any way whatsoever. But, Cassie, here . . . he would have probably preferred it because of that, you know, 'bond' thing and all that I keep hearing about. Oh, well. No worries, mate. Later . . ."

"Whoa! Wait! Wait just a minute," Dean argued immediately as he saw Crowley raise his hand to snap his fingers. "What about Cas? Cas?" Cas didn't acknowledge his presence in any manner whatsoever. In fact, the angel hadn't moved a single muscle since he arrived. "What the hell have you done to him, you bastard?"

"What do you care?" Crowley countered tauntingly. "After all, you're not _gay_ and you love your brother more than, well, anyone, or anything else, so all I have to do is threaten Sam and you'll drop featherbrains here like a hot potato."

Suddenly, Sam appeared on the other side of Castiel, about ten feet from him, with a bloody knife in hand. He was gasping hard like he'd just finished fighting, probably one of the black dogs. He paused and glanced around while his stunt demon backed away in a similar fashion to Dean's earlier.

"Now that we are all here, as requested," Crowley started authoritatively.

"You okay, Sammy?" Dean interrupted quickly, ignoring the self-proclaimed King of Hell.

"Yeah," Sam huffed out while he tried to process what was going on. "You?"

"Just peachy," Dean returned automatically. "You get Cujo?"

"Yep. One down. Yours?" Sam answered easily while his eyes swept the scene.

"Not yet," Dean replied with disgust. "Got interrupted during the kill shot."

Crowley eyed the two irritably before confirming, "Do you two need to hug and kiss, too? After all, it's been all of five minutes since you've seen each other last. Or can we get on with this? Not gay, bullocks."

"Watch it, you giant bag of dicks," Dean growled menacingly.

"Dean?" Sam checked cautiously.

"Oh, just shut it, the both of you, stupid cave dwelling Neanderthals," Crowley ordered harshly while stealing their voices at the same time to make it happen. "I don't know why I don't just kill you both."

"Better than you have tried," Dean strangled out painfully, even though it was barely a whisper, only to start choking harshly as Crowley tightened his hand even more.

"In any case," Crowley restarted in a louder voice. "I have it on good authority, _Kevin_, that you two denim-clad buffoons are going through the trials to close the gates to my home territory which I happen to find highly offensive personally but that's neither here or there at the present. As I am the one with the prophet, _and_ the Angel tablet."

He held up the stone tablet for all to see before he placed it on the table in front of Kevin. He paused for a moment while the significance of that statement sunk in. He grinned manically while Dean and Sam exchanged meaningful glances. Castiel, on the other hand, once again remained motionless.

"That's right, boys. Check. And mate," Crowley crowed proudly before continuing, "but, as you know, these things take time to decipher. The angels' ancient old windbag of a parental figure did so love the monotone droning of his own voice. Apparently went on and on. Tolkien was positively closed mouth, comparatively. However, we have encountered some interesting tangents bringing us back to the mate thing, and the reason for this . . . intervention?"

Dean glanced over at Sam and saw that Sam was just as lost as he was. He checked Kevin's face but Kevin wouldn't meet his searching gaze. All Dean could see in the prophet's face was deep, sincere apology mixed with weary pain. He refocused on Crowley about the time Crowley was winding down. He automatically voiced his question with hesitant confusion, very surprised to hear himself talking again, "What 'mate thing'?"

"So glad you asked, KD," Crowley continued smoothly. "See, the next trial is something of a . . . we don't know yet as my half and the other half of the tablet left various crumblings, and words, probably, here and there, and, well, everywhere."

"Why would you need to know that any way?" Sam countered abruptly. "It's not like you're going to help out on it."

"No, but he will stop us," Dean finished automatically.

"Ah, no 'dunce' cap for you yet," Crowley commended briefly then insulted caustically, "but there's still plenty of time left, especially with your track record, and IQ. Anywho, I'm aware that Moose here is the forerunner for the challenges so it's up to him it seems but then there's all the past weeks of coughing up blood, migraines, muscle spasms . . . by the by, have the Lucinations started back yet, Sammy boy?"

"Migraines? Muscle . . . Luci . . . hell," Dean sputtered softly then demanded firmly. "Something else you neglected to tell me, Sammy? Or are we all the way back to pre-Apocalypse secret time?"

"Dean," Sam started slowly.

"Is it true?" Dean demanded sharply. Sam's lack of answer was the most honest answer Dean was going to get and he knew it. He tried to hold down his anger but he was so tired of this crap. All of the crap. All of the lying. All of the dying. Hell, he'd known all along that this was where it was all leading to and that he would once again be left alone, digging Sam's grave. Alone. Which is why he damn well had wanted to do it himself he remembered irately.

"What's it to you?" Dean countered on Crowley aggressively, turning all of his anger on something well deserving. "Seems to me that you are in a sweet spot right now. Why jinx it?"

Crowley smirked slightly, "What can I say? I love beating you flannel wearing primates. Plus, you two fighting over who gets to be champion and die for the other . . . always thrilling. Four stars, top rating. Red carpet. Oscars all around. That is, if those stuck-up poppycocks would ever stop selling their souls long enough to look at anyone who wasn't already in their club."

"No," Sam argued tautly. "We aren't fighting over anything. I did the first and second trials so it's all me now."

"Of course, it is," Crowley agreed condescendingly. "Because what was it that you told your brother again? He has friends. Right. And, uh, who were they again? Oh, yeah, a born-again vampire who saved his life countless times in the past year but you made him abandon said 'friend' because . . . well, you wanted him to. Had a full out hissy fit over your bro possibly having someone else to lean on, even. Then Dean killed him to save . . . oh, yeah, _you_. And Dean's other friend? A two-faced, backstabbing douche of an insane, easily mind-controlled angel who he cannot trust any further than he could throw him. But, hey, he has friends. Or was it 'had'?" Crowley ended curiously then shrugged dismissively before continuing on.

"And what else did you mention? What was it? Family? Of course, family . . . which is . . . of course, you. He always has you, right, Sammy? Of course. Or, at least, until you decide to cut him out of your life again for whatever reason you decide that you don't want to be around him anymore because, let's face it, he's an annoying, cocky, ignorant little prat. So you go off and live your 'safe, normal' life with whomever. Or until you died from whatever illness you have right now. Or, you know, when the trials kill you because we all know they will . . ."

"And finally, a light at the end of the tunnel? Sure. If you want a normal life, right, Sammy? And when has Dean ever really wanted that? A life to live on his own, after you succumb to whatever this thing is. But, hey, at least, he'll be alive while he drinks himself into a daily coma. Or kamikazes himself in the first hunt he can. Better you had just killed him out right than make him live another year of that type of Hell so that _**you**_ can be happy. But whatever. You've never really known him, have you?"

Crowley smirked slightly as he saw the emotions that Dean was trying desperately to hide, knowing his worst fears were coming true. He enjoyed the pain radiating off of the elder Winchester and paused for a moment to breathe it in while making sure that Sam still couldn't talk. He couldn't take the chance that Sam might convince Dean otherwise.

After a few moments, Crowley let out a disgusted sigh. "I cannot believe I'm interfering with this but this form of torture is too mean, even for me," Crowley mumbled to himself then addressed Dean directly. "I'm offering you, you obnoxious denim clad nightmare, a one-time shot at correcting this epic SNAFU. I mean, after all, you've been hunting non-stop in Purgatory for a whole year and Sam's been out of the business for over a year taking it easy and playing house. And, yet, Sam's the one who takes one of my best pups out. Sounds like _extremely_ bad writing to me. Plus, I'm sick of Moose getting all the plot lines so I will offer you one rematch with the exact same weapons as you had that night, that way you'll both be in the running, so to speak. You know, just in case."

"Dean, no," Sam argued hotly, only to have Crowley once again take away his voice.

Dean narrowed his eyes untrustingly and demanded uncertainly, "Oh, yeah. With what strings attached?"

"No strings," Crowley denied innocently. "Nothing up my sleeves. Just a little favor. Service, if you will. Honestly, it will be helping you out more than me."

"What. Favor?" Dean gritted out. Sam tried to talk again and ended up coughing up some blood that he wasn't quick enough to hide. Dean kept his game face on, not letting on that he saw, but seeing it, he knew that he had to do whatever Crowley asked. He didn't want to give in too easily, though.

"First, you have to agree to it," Crowley bargained tersely.

"No dice," Dean argued hotly. "Now tell me." Sam choked again and Dean reached into his jacket then tossed Sam his flask of water. Sam drank it greedily while keeping an eye on Dean and Crowley as Crowley stepped near to talk quietly with Dean who braced himself for attack. Dean could easily tell that irritated Sam even more because he couldn't hear what was going on.

Crowley eyed Dean for a moment then admitted easily, "I really, really do despise you, your brother, and everyone in your lives but you all have your uses, unfortunately. For instance, the favor, I could have any one of a thousand demons do it, or even your brother, but you . . . you doing it . . . yeah. That would be the kicker."

Dean rolled his eyes slightly over the dramatic build up and asserted impatiently, "Just spit it out already. I have a dog to put down." He meant the black dog he was hunting but realized later that it could be interpreted another way. Too late, Crowley took him up on his offer.

Crowley smiled evilly then shot his eyes over to Castiel before he ordered Dean in a very firm but soft voice, "You go over there and 'spoil' that backstabbing, god-wannabe, feathered loony there then I will give you the biggest puppy I own to gut at your leisure."

"'Spoil'?" Dean clarified uncertainly. "I'd have to know what he was into. What is it? Dr. Sexy? Twilight? Walking Dead? The Kardashins?"

"No," Crowley denied and rolled his eyes with exasperation. "'Spoil' as in unmated sex. As in, take his not-so-lily white virginity."

Dean's eyes widened in shock then he shook his head and insisted adamantly, "Told you already, I'm not . . ."

"That's got nothing to do with this," Crowley hissed angrily. "This is about domination. About payback. Torture."

"I know," Dean hissed back irately. "Been there. Done that. On both ends. No way!"

Crowley eyed him curiously for a moment then clarified objectively, "So you'd rather a demon do it instead of you? What if I told you it was part of the challenges?"

"No way . . .," Dean started disbelievingly, only to have Crowley cut him off.

"The worthy will gain the grace of an angel to sustain you through the trials. This is the only way for a human to gain the grace of an angel," Crowley continued convincingly. "I just figured with that '_profound_'' bond that you two already share, it might be . . . gentler on him but clearly you aren't the _man_ for the job. Guess you're more the _woman_ of your relationships. Of course, that's nothing new. How many times been too weak? How many times have you let your brother, your father, your whole family and countless friends down now?"

Dean glared at him with ice-hard emeralds. He knew his hatred blazed through loud and clear. He really didn't trust himself to speak at the moment.

"Of course, I could have your little angel soldier who pulled your worthless soul out of Hell 'soil' your brother's semi-virgin ass instead," Crowley ruminated contemplatively. "And you would have to watch it all because . . . well, just because." Crowley smirked evilly.

"Semi . . .?" Dean started then shook his head to clear it from that disturbing detour of images, unable to believe his head had even tried to go there, and snapped irritably, "Enough!" They both knew that Dean, once again, didn't have a choice. Crowley arched his eyebrow in question to which Dean growled very low in his throat, "Winchesters. Don't. Catch."

"Really?" Crowley continued playfully, clearly enjoying Dean's discomfort. "I thought that Winchesters didn't . . . at all. And apparently you never taught Sammy . . ."

"I'll do it! Alright?" Dean barked out loudly to shut out whatever was coming out of Crowley's mouth next. "Just get rid of Sam," he bargained in a softer voice. Unconsciously, his shoulders slumped slightly at that thought of what was about to happen but he really didn't see another way out of this.

"Bossy much?" Crowley observed dryly as he walked beside Dean, leading the way to the circle of holy fire. He caught Dean off guard close to the circle and pushed him right through it then smirked mockingly at the pissed off hunter on the other side who was patting out his slightly flaming pants.

"Watch it, asshat!" Dean grumbled automatically

"Be sure to give it a good show now," Crowley commented cheerfully.

Dean glared at him then glanced over at Sam and motioned to Crowley for him to get on with it. There was no way he was going to do anything in front of Sam. Hell, he really hoped that he wouldn't have to do anything anyway now that he was next to Cas. He believed that they could come up with something to negate all this since they were together.

"Dean, what the hell . . ." Sam started to ask.

"Nothing, Sam,"' Dean interrupted quickly. "I'll be with you in an hour or so. Have to take care of something real quick."

"Dean," Sam warned irritably.

"Oh, for Lucifer's sake, get a freakin' clue, mate," Crowley snapped bitingly. "Dean's obviously rethought his position about doing me a favor since I put your oversized Gigantor butt on the line again, quite literally, in fact. So, of course, Dean's going to do whatever I want to save his baby bro once again since that's his life's mission. Nauseating, I know, but that's your simple minded brother for you. The fact that it will put him ahead in the trials category is added incentive for him, and me, quite honestly."

"What?" Sam snarled irately. "No, Dean, don't do it. You know this won't end well, plus, you promised to trust me." Sam glared at his brother who was studiously ignoring him and instead studying Castiel. "Dean, you know better. What are you giving up this time?"

Dean ignored the others in the room and walked up to the front of Castiel. He stared his friend in the face and noticed that Castiel's eyes only followed Crowley, even though the rest of his body was motionless. He sighed heavily as this was so not looking good for any of them then started hesitantly, "Cas, are you in there, buddy? Because, if you are, I really need some help here or someone is definitely going to get screwed and not in a good way."

Meanwhile, Crowley answered Sam in Dean's stead, "Giving up? Well, nothing more than you want him to. After all, you really don't want him to have friends. Who does? You've made him give up one of the remaining two. I'm simply helping you get rid of the last one. Isn't that right, Deano?"

Dean frowned heavily over the motionless statue that was his friend and demanded irately, "What the hell have you done to him?"

"Oh, apologies," Crowley replied easily. "I mean, it wasn't like he was just going to stand there with bated breath waiting then . . .you know, let . . . _it_ happen. You know how independent the little tool's become. He's definitely no Bella. Of course, you're no Edward, either. Hmm. . . Let's see . . . what was the rest of that . . . oh, yes, thank you, Kevin." Crowley picked a paper out of Kevin's lax, bloody hand and quickly recited the final words of an Enochian spell.

A flash of blue-white light flared within Castiel's eyes as he screamed in pain. He curled in on himself in a bid to control what was happening as a result of the cast spell He felt hands on him and voices from a far. He knew he shouldn't move. He should just embrace the pain as well deserved but the spell made him powerless. He no longer had any control over his vessel or rational mind.

"Cas!" Dean called out frantically as he grabbed at the angel's shoulders, wondering what the hell Crowley had done to his friend. "Cas. Talk to me. What's going on? What'd that son of a bitch do to you?"

In the blink of an eye, their positions were reversed. Dean would never be able to explain how it happened but, somehow, he was now on his knees with Castiel leaning over him, glaring daggers at him. Castiel's hand in his hair held him in position. Dean swallowed thickly at the anger and disappointment blazing from inside those deep blue eyes. "Cas?" he unconsciously begged. The recent beating that Castiel had delivered still fresh in his mind and nightmares.

"Cas!" Sam called out as well but everything that wasn't within that ring of fire seemed very muted to the occupants within.

Castiel leaned in closely and enunciated clearly in a soft but firm voice that sent chills down Dean's spine for several conflicting reasons. "What's going on, Dean? You tell me. Because, apparently, from what I heard of the current conversation, I am once again elected to bleed for your brother to save him from whatever stupidity he's gotten himself into this time. Why is it that every time you have to save his ass it takes part of mine?"

"Know what? Not this time, Dean," Castiel promised solemnly in a very husky voice. "This time _my_ ass will not be on the serving line. Yours is."

_**Please let me know what you think. Thank you so much for reading!**_


	2. Sam's POV

_Oh, yeah, everything is unbeta'd. All my mistakes are my own.__ Also, didn't do quite as many re-reads and edits so there will probably be more mistakes than usual._

_Disclaimer: Kripke owns all Supernatural characters. I'm only borrowing them. _

_**Pairing:** Dean/Castiel - very graphic. This is my second attempt at something like this because this muse wouldn't leave me alone, but that doesn't mean I'm good at this or anything. Please let me know what you think, constructively._

_**Overall Warnings**: __Rated M__ for swearing, graphic sexual content with S and M undertones, implied forced sexual torture and other adult subject matter._

_**This chapter**: Rated M for swearing and vague references of forceful rape just to be safe._

_POSSIBLE TRIGGERS: Please read with caution (although the next chapter will be much worse.)_

- SPN - SPN -

Chapter 2

**Previously on "Now What?" –**

"_**Know what? Not this time, Dean," Castiel promised solemnly in a very husky voice. "This time, my ass will not be on the menu. Yours is."**_

"Castiel!" Sam continued to yell angrily, wondering what the hell was going on here. Granted, he was pissed as hell that Dean was going back on his word but he didn't want his brother to die. Ever. Unfortunately, their angelic friend appeared to be in a particularly smitey mood, judging by the way he was glaring down at Dean. Knowing Dean's mood of late, especially regarding the angel, things were about to get ugly on both sides. "Cas? Castiel, damn it! Listen to me. Don't! Don't do it, man! Come on. Damn it!"

Crowley, on the other hand, settled himself in a throne-like chair with a tumbler of his favorite scotch, both of which suddenly appeared. He rolled his eyes at the younger hunter and his noisy outburst ruining the mood. He growled out irritably, "Oh, give it a break already, Moose. Can't you tell they can't hear you? Not that they'd answer you even if they could."

"What do you mean?" Sam demanded uncomfortably. "What the hell did you do to him? Them? Wh-what . . . damn it, what the hell did you do to Castiel, Crowley?"

Crowley smirked smugly and arched an eyebrow arrogantly then delayed slightly, "What makes you think _**I**_ did anything to him? You can't tell me you haven't noticed."

Sam paused then frowned heavily before asking hesitantly, because he wasn't real sure he actually wanted an answer to this, "Haven't noticed what?"

Crowley rolled his eyes slightly then expounded impatiently, "All the eye-sexing. Pining. The pathetic staring at each other when the other isn't looking. The dreams . . ."

_Well, yeah, kinda, _Sam mentally agreed until he had to interrupt with surprise, "Wait, what dreams? Dreams? Really? How do you . . . Surely . . . no way," he trailed off as he spotted some of Chuck's books that suddenly materialized on the floor by Crowley's chair. Crowley arched an eyebrow then refocused his attention toward the scene playing out in front of him while Sam stammered hopelessly, "B-b-but Dean's not gay!"

"So I hear," Crowley remarked drily then continued with a wicked smile. "But that just makes this _so_ much more entertaining. Ah, here we go."

"But . . . Cas . . . he's an angel. He won't . . . I mean, he wouldn't . . . oh, God," Sam started to argue then choked suddenly as his eyes followed Crowley's suddenly intent eyes, only to stop with stunned shock when he figured out what exactly had captured the King of Hell's attention so thoroughly. "Oh, gross!"

"Pipe down, Moose, or lose the voice," he warned distractedly as he leaned forward with a devious gleam in his eye.

"Lose my lunch more like," Sam grumbled nauseously to himself before he had to look back at his now very nude brother who was still in the grips of the irate angel. "Wait. Shit. He's not going to . . ."

"He probably won't," Crowley agreed with wry amusement, "but the little angel who could, and did, will definitely." He chuckled to himself proudly.

"He won't force Dean . . ." Sam argued firmly. "He wouldn't . . . He . . ."

Crowley glanced at him with a truly evil smile. "He doesn't have a choice, thanks to Advanced Placement and a certain instruction tablet. Although I really pictured it the other way around, it really doesn't matter. The end result is the same, and I'll have one more thing to hold over them." He laughed heartily.

Sam's eyes flew over to Kevin who sank down even further into the chair, although his bonds didn't allow much movement. He wouldn't meet Sam's eyes but Kevin's entire posture spoke of deep shame and regret. Sam winced sympathetically, knowing that Kevin was forced into this as much as the rest of them. His mind searched furiously for something, anything, that could help him, Dean, Kevin, any of them, at the moment.

Dean's pained yell caused Sam to automatically check on his brother, only to look away quickly and desperately try to forget seeing his tough, BA, older brother being raped by his angelic best friend. Sam clenched his eyelids shut to block out the image while he ordered himself to think. Unfortunately, his brother's pained moans and whimpers distracted him again and again.

_Surely Cas knew there was ALWAYS time for lubrication, right? But, then again, the pizza man probably didn't need it for the babysitter,_ Sam realized with a sinking feeling.

- SPN - SPN -

_**I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please review and let me know what you think. **_


	3. Castiel's POV

_Oh, yeah, everything is unbeta'd. All my mistakes are my own.__ Also, didn't do quite as many re-reads and edits so there will probably be more mistakes than usual._

_Disclaimer: Kripke owns all Supernatural characters. I'm only borrowing them. _

_Pairing: Dean/Castiel - very graphic rape scene. This is my second attempt at something like this because this muse wouldn't leave me alone so I'm stil learnign. Please let me know what you think, constructively._

_Overall Warnings: __Rated M__ for swearing, graphic sexual content with S and M undertones, implicit rape and other adult subject matter._

_PROBABLE TRIGGER WARNING! Read with caution!_

_Slightly longer to make up for the very short chapter before._

- SPN - SPN -

**Previously on "Now What?" –**

"_**Know what? Not this time, Dean," Castiel promised solemnly in a very husky voice. "This time, my ass will not be on the menu. Yours is."**_

Castiel watched Dean blink with shocked disbelief an instant before he reached out and grabbed the hunter by the hair at the back of his neck. He yanked Dean's head back to stare at him as he towered over the helpless human that was his charge. _Was_ being the keyword because, after this, that term would never apply to this particular being again.

Dean groaned slightly at the hair pull which had hurt, but not that bad. In fact, if a hot chick, or hell, any chick, had been in his friend's place right now, it would have seriously turned him on. Yeah, alright, he had a slight pain kink, very slight, so sue him. He was just glad it was only a slight kink, considering all he'd lived through the past few years. Unfortunately, it wasn't a hot chick in front of him so his body and mind were sending very conflicting signals which, in his chaotic mind, was not a good sign, at all.

To add to that, he was even more disturbed by the confusing emotions swirling in his friend's eyes which appeared to blaze an even brighter blue than normal. He was actually somewhat stunned by that, considering he didn't think they could become any bluer. He had a hard enough time not staring into those deep oceanic depths as it was. Whenever he did accidently get caught in their depths, he found himself drowning in their reassuring serenity almost instantly.

_**Damn it!**_ _This was only going to complicate things all the more_, he realized and vaguely wondered if it was the angel's grace burning through its vessel that caused this.

He knew Crowley had done something to the angel which probably resulted in this. It was obviously an Enochian spell meant for Cas since he was the only being susceptible to it. He also knew that he needed to make Cas understand, and make him understand like yesterday, what Dean's intentions had really been when he had entered the holy fire circle.

His intentions had definitely not been to give Crowley what he had wanted. After all, when had he ever gone along with that prissy dick, especially since he'd become the King of Hell. He had just figured that this had been the only way to get to the angel without Crowley interfering.

In the next instant, Dean felt a huge cooling draft in the room and immediately knew why. _Shit! _ He mentally cursed with blinding panic. _Where the hell are my clothes? Cas, damn it! _Only then did he realize that he had allowed entirely too much time to pass. He needed to get this under control now.

"Cas?" he barely squeaked out hoarsely then winced and swallowed thickly. What the hell had happened to his voice? _Oh, yeah, freaking panic_. He tried again, only barely succeeding in sounding almost normal. Too bad, his mind was in worse shape than his voice. "I, I was looking for . . ."

"What? What, Dean?" Cas inquired dispassionately as he stared down at the human kneeling directly in front of him, in a position that he had imagined frequently over the past few years, for various reasons, but never truly believed the two of them would ever get here. He reached out his free hand and gently stroked Dean's cheek while keeping his grip on Dean's hair tight. His roving hand firmly moved its way down Dean's neck, feeling the increasing temperature under his hand from the human's flush skin, as he continued absently, "What were you looking for? Another type of hookup? Another position, perhaps? Afraid not. Not this time, Dean."

"Cas," Dean rasped out harshly, trying to ignore the increasing panic and the feelings that the gentle, firm stoke down his neck caused. He felt the barely restrained power of the angel before him and somehow sensed that Cas was fighting a losing battle against something that he was no match for. He mentally struggled for something, some idea or inspiration, to help them both out of this mess. But Cas's hands on his body distracted him for some reason. His id and ego were arguing over how they felt about this, all of this, as well as the actual importance of it all at the moment.

Despite the current situation and all the foreboding indications telling Dean something very bad was about to happen, Castiel's touch did feel strangely comforting and familiar. It vaguely reminded him of his father in some ways but he never had these 'other' feelings when his father had touched him. But the enormous strength of both his larger than life role models being gentled for him by them, yeah, that did very strange things to his self-worth, his self-image and, in Cas's case, at least, his libido. The fact that his savior, who had seen him at his . . . well, Hell . . . and still _cared_ . . .

_Shit! _He so needed to get a grip on himself. He stubbornly focused his attention on his lack of clothes and the situation at hand, rather than . . . Once again, his mind trailed off at the sensations floating over his skin, his current position in relation to his savior, his . . . As a result, he was never completely certain later, whether the next word was direct toward himself or Castiel. "Don't . . ." he rasped warningly.

"Don't," Cas interrupted angrily, not allowing the human a nanometer of wiggle room, "tell me what to do. You no longer have a say in any of this, Dean." His free hand had moved down to where his mark used to be on Dean's shoulder. He could still feel the gentle pulsing of the grace he'd left within the mark, even though he had healed the visible burned skin after the almost apocalypse. He had left that grace to help seal Dean's soul to his mortal body and restart the life within. It was the profound bond that they shared, despite Dean's obliviousness to it.

He fitted his hand perfectly over the wound, easily guided by sealed grace within Dean, while he gripped the short, now sweaty, hair on the back of Dean's neck tighter, knowing what was coming as his control over his vessel's 'meatsuit' weakened. He didn't have much time left. He soon would be gone, mentally. He wished more than anything that it was physically but the holy fire ring eliminated that option as he muttered softly in Dean's face but mostly to himself, "No say over this. Or over anything. Anymore."

Unfortunately, he was unable to stop what had been building within him this whole time, no matter how much . . . Because of that spell, he had no choice, his logical mind reminded his 'emotional' mind with despair. It gave him _NO _solace as he felt his grace flare out from the mental restrains he'd held it within to begin the end of it, the end of it all. He stared into Dean's brilliant green eyes which were brighter than normal from the glistening tears of pain that the human stubbornly refused to spill and mentally burned the image in his mind, knowing he would never be able to be with this remarkable man again after all this.

"Oh, for the love of . . . get on with it!" Crowley's muted voice sounded low within the fire but his exasperation was easily distinguishable. He quickly followed it with a repeat of the Enochian command with an imperative direct command. Castiel barely heard the final, "Oh, yeah, and, by all means, dayenu" over the blood rushing through his vessel's body.

Castiel's eyes flared whitish-blue briefly from the brightly burning, fully freed grace while he growled with long-denied, pained hunger and moved into position behind Dean's kneeling form. He kept the human at his feet firmly in place as the natural submissive his species was, at least, in relation to angels. He thought he might have heard it say something but nothing it had to say would change anything so he completely disregarded it. His own vessel's clothing irritated its skin so he instantly dispelled them with a thought. He leaned forward over the sleekly, muscled back of the offering before him as he sank into the appropriate position to complete the ordered ritual.

A small part of him voiced an outraged concern that the main part of him immediately squelched. He had his order from Above. This wasn't the time for thought. That wasn't allowed right now. The order was all. The order was everything. The order _must_ be obeyed.

In true robotic fashion, he reached around the human's waist and gripped it tightly while his other hand kept control of the human's neck and head. He quoted the required Enochian inscription while he pressed his hand flat against the abdomen of the body in front of him. As expected, the human threw his head back and screamed out in pain. After all, this particular ritual was never intended for humans.

With the human painfully distracted, he released its head and prepared to complete the ritual by lining himself up at the human's entrance. He once again gripped the human's graced shoulder and pulled the hunter down on him, using his grace to ease the way. Why he bothered, he didn't now acknowledge as his grace thrummed violently inside of him. Not that it mattered, the human still yelled in pain.

Once he was fully buried inside the intended vessel, Castiel slightly blinked away a portion of the white-hot, grace-filled haze that had overtaken his mind. It was still there, driving him, but it was not nearly as overpowering. That's not to say that he could actual stop what he was doing, because he couldn't. It only meant that he could actually interact with his vessel again. He could actually feel and process what his vessel was feeling.

The first thing he became aware of was warm, tight wetness surrounding his reproductive organ. His vessel's eyes rolled back in his head slightly in response to how very, very, . . . 'awesome' it felt. An involuntary pleasured moan slipped out of his vessel as he gripped the wonderful body before him tightly. He let out a shuddering sigh which caused more pleasurable sensations to flow through him, generated from the motion of his fully-blooded male organ moving deep within the pleasure receptacle it was inside.

He felt the driving need to move so he slowly pulled back from the sweet body gripping him so tightly until he was almost all the way out. He moaned in ecstasy at the tightness, convulsing around him in an attempt to keep him inside. He needed to reward it for all the pleasure it as giving him so he quickly thrusted back in as deep as he could go, enjoying the pulsing muscles within the human's body clenching around him. He easily fell into an immensely pleasurable rhythm.

In the back of his mind, he acknowledged that the human's yells had fallen into weakly pained, distressed whimpers but they didn't really touch him. His body was on fire, an extremely delightful fire, and it needed release. That was all he could focus on at the moment as the hand he had held on the human's abdomen moved to its other shoulder since the vessel had fully submitted to his ownership of it. Then he moved both of his hands to the man's hips and began pulling him back onto his vessel's penis harder and faster than before.

His head fell back and he slowly lowered himself back on his knees as he continued to impale the human further on his extremely hard member. He groaned in pleasure as he drove deeper and deeper into the receiving vessel. He felt his own vessel's blood pooling in his gut and his testicles tightening up, drawing up closer to the attached body. He could tell something was about to happen. Something was building up. Something mind-blowing. He was getting closer and closer but, at the same time, he didn't want it to end. He never wanted it to end. He'd never felt anything this immensely pleasurable before.

Suddenly, he felt something pulling on his vessel's penis every time he tried to pull it out of the tight, throbbing receptacle on top of him. He couldn't tell if it was adding to the pleasure or not but it definitely wasn't hindering it. In fact, it made him thrust even harder which produced more weak groans from the limp receptacle but he didn't care. He had to keep going. He had to reach the end. He had to . . .

_Oh, Father,_ he praised distractedly when he couldn't pull out in more. Actually, the last pull which didn't move caused the already tight channel to contract and spasm even tighter around him. As a result, his vessel's reproductive organ continued to swell up even more and felt like it would burst at the seams. It set off a chain reaction within Castiel and his vessel's meatsuit.

Every muscle in his whole vessel's body tightened up then clenched while he experienced his first ever orgasm. He barely managed to close his grace-filled eyes and clasped his hands over the receptacle's mortal ears to protect them from the small amount of grace flowing out of him beyond his control. He threw back his head with a hoarse shout of ecstasy. Simultaneously, he felt his testicles pull all the way up and contract, forcing his ejaculate into the pulsing channel that was busily milking all of it from his erupting penis.

As soon as he had his grace back under his control, he gripped the human's hips again while he forcefully thrusted up into the limp vessel's body. He pressed even deeper into the tight channel, desperate to shoot more of his ejaculate as deep in the vessel as was physically possible. He needed this ecstasy to continue indefinitely.

He felt himself press even deeper into the tight channel milking him, trying to become one with the receptacle. He pressed and pressed, even though in reality he barely moved. Instinctively, he searched, driven, until he sensed that he'd found another opening buried deeply at the human receptacle's core. Unmindfully, he purposefully thrusted into that secret place, that previously virgin territory that no entity had ever been within, to which he heard a sudden intake of breath and pained yelp followed by a confused whimper. His grace flared brightly within his vessel in response to the knowledge that he was the first and he proceeded to fill it with even more of his grace-filled ejaculate. Instinctively, he needed to coat and mark every inch of the man he had buried himself in.

The receptacle above him shuddered and shook in response to the deep invasion of its core, adding to Cas's pleasure. He rolled his hips rhythmically while he continued to press the human's hips down onto his. He felt the need meld this human into himself, even though it wasn't possible. His body continued to shot long strings of cum into that hidden core.

He moaned softly as he felt the mortal's body sag against him, giving up all control of its body to him once again. He smiled dazedly at the mortal's final surrender and enjoyed the warm, endorphin-filled blood flowing through his vessel's body. He leaned down to rest his head against the human's shoulder while the rest of his vessel continued to move inside the man's channel and fill it even more. As it was, he could feel the sloshing of his ejaculate inside the receptacle which only cause his vessel to expel more and his pleasure to increase.

Distantly, he heard someone's voice commenting, "I don't know if I believe it. Seems like I should make sure that you two are actually . . ."

The voice was getting closer. Castiel's head immediately shot up as he growled menacingly at the intrusion. No one should be here. Not now. Not during this. No one can touch. No one can take. He'll rip whoever it is apart.

"Touchy, touchy," the voice taunted back smugly as it faded back.

Castiel leaned down and inhaled the tantalizing aroma of sweat and sex, specifically the aroma of his receptacle's individual scent. He pressed his lips against the sweaty neck that was connected to the head lolling against his shoulder. He licked his lips and the neck simultaneously. He sighed in pleasure at the taste, enjoying every moment of what was happening. His reproductive organ shot more out into the overfilled body, resulting in a soft groan.

The voice commanded again, in Enochian, a command that could not be ignored, and Castiel whined slightly with reluctance, even as he moved to obey. He leaned back slightly and spread his legs wider, forcing the human to do the same since its legs were sprawled outside the angel's . He hooked his arms under the mortal's knees and pulled them up as close to its chest as he could without damaging the receptacle or the progress that they had made in the ritual.

The mortal whimpered weakly but they weren't done yet. He leaned over and ordered softly into the its ear, using their bond status to compel obedience, "Present yourself."

The submissive flinched and subtly tried to refuse but Castiel pressed him down on to his hips and managed to get just that little bit further inside. The sub turned his head to hide its face in Castiel's neck as the sub's far hand moved slowly down its sweaty chest and abs. It completely bypassed its erect, heavy cock. Instead the sub moved down to its overloaded testicles and cupped them before pulling them up to display its very full, highly inflamed, abused hole, filled to bursting by Castiel's huge, inflated penis.

Castiel met the voice's eyes for a brief instant and saw the picture of them through the bystander's eyes. He closed his eyes at the very erotic image that was now seared into his mind. Automatically he turned the sub's face in the opposite direction then completed the last step by gently biting down on the sweaty expanse bared for him. He heard the sub's pained groan transition to a sudden, surprised, hoarsely-shouted curse then fall into a weak whimper as he deepened the bite until he faintly tasted blood.

The instant that he tasted blood, he retracted his vessel's teeth and licked the wound soothingly until it closed. Dimly he saw a bright light flash in the distance but that didn't touch him. He felt the completion of the task assigned and driving urges receded, even if the pleasurable drives stayed with him. He moved again in response to the pleasure resulting from the clenching, throbbing channel surrounding his sensitive member. Even as more ejaculate erupted from him, he once again felt in control of himself, his grace and his vessel.

While his surroundings became clearer to him and awareness returned, he felt the same grace deep regret as when he had betrayed Dean by being in league with Crowley. It came as no surprise that Crowley once again was a part of that same intense regret as well. He had no idea how to possibly . . .

He couldn't even finish that thought because he really felt like there was nothing left to finish. He almost fearfully glanced over to check his now ex-friend's expression, wondering at the silence. He was not at all surprise to find Dean passed out on top of him.

No, he was not surprise and he'd be lying if he said that he wasn't somewhat relieved. He acknowledged that thought as cowardice as he slowly lowered Dean's legs back down into a more comfortable position. He tried to ease Dean off of him, only to feel a strange, somewhat painful pull on his penis. Puzzled, he tried again but only made it as far as last time which wasn't more than a few centimeters.

Dean groaned in his sleep and mumbled with a slight slur, "Stop. Don't."

Castiel glanced over to the face resting beside his. Dean's eyes were still closed so Castiel wasn't sure if Dean was truly awake. Not that it really mattered at this point, it didn't appear that they were going anywhere anytime soon.

He mentally searched his body for the impediment with the help of his grace so that he could hopefully resolve it before Dean woke up. He was so focused that he actually startled when Dean addressed him wearily, and still a bit slurred, "Something you forget to tell me, Cas?"

"Um," Castiel tried to stall hesitantly while working on a solution, "I am not sure what you are referring to."

"K," Dean mumbled weakly. "How 'bout this. Cas, get out of my ass."

Castiel blinked then swallowed slightly before he admitted reluctantly, "I, uh, can't."

"Which brings us back to, something you forgot to tell me, Cas?"

"I, uh, . . . am still not sure . . ." Castiel stalled desperately, only there still wasn't any loosening within the gripping channel holding him prisoner to this situation.

"Of course not," Dean huffed humorlessly with his eyes still closed then sighed heavily and answered slowly, with obvious exhaustion, "Why am I not surprised. So many questions. How about the biggest one first? Why can't you get out of me now?"

"Oh, uh . . ."

"Yes, Cas," Dean prodded with weary impatience.

Castiel flinched slightly before he reasoned reluctantly, "We appear to be . . . um . . . tied." He tried to concentrate on anything but the warm, tightness surrounding him as he felt himself eject more semen into Dean. He knew he shouldn't feel as pleasured as he did at the feeling.

"Tied? Tied! Like . . . as in dogs?" Dean questioned disbelievingly then didn't quite bite back a soft moan in time. "God, that feels . . . _shit_ . . . weird," he muttered to himself.

"Dean, please," Castiel started hesitantly.

"Seriously?" Dean demanded incredulously, even though he didn't have the energy to back it up with actual emotion. "You . . . After everything . . . tied . . . and . . . shit . . . you want something else?!"

"No. Yes. I . . ." Cas stammered in reply, unable to avoid the guilty regret seeping deep within him.

"Well, which the hell is it?" Dean hissed irritably.

Castiel closed his eyes briefly as he ejaculated even more into Dean's awesome body. He knew he needed to get this out quickly. "Just please don't mention my Father right now," he rushed out abruptly before glancing at Dean's stunned face.

Dean stared at him for a long moment then finally opened his mouth to say something, only to close it without saying anything. He tried again with the same results before he ran a shaky hand over his sweaty, tear-stained face. He leaned his head back then rolled his head to look at Castiel again and wondered curiously, "Would it cause us to '_untie' _quickerif I do?"

There was another spurt of ejaculate shot up into Dean who shuddered slightly in reaction. Dean exhaled heavily then he prodded with a trembling voice, "Cas?"

"Possibly," Cas gritted out softly, fighting the pleasure now that Dean was conscious and reminding Castiel of what position they were in. Despite his honest remorse, Dean's body felt so, so incredibly wonderful around his own.

"Possibly?" Dean griped hoarsely at the evasion then demanded in the same tone. "Did you know this was going to happen?"

"Did I know what was going to happen?" Castiel clarified uncertainly, trying to focus on the conversation and not the more pleasurable sensations of his vessel's body.

"This tie thing," Dean explained impatiently then bit back another shudder as Cas expelled more into Dean's body.

"No," Castiel answered honestly.

"Seriously?" Dean verified disbelievingly, staring at him in shock.

Castiel rolled his eyes slightly then demanded impatiently in return, "How would I know, Dean, considering I've never done this before?"

"What about . . . you know, what's her name . . . the hippy chick that found you naked in the woods?" Dean wondered curiously.

"We didn't have that kind of relationship," Castiel stated vaguely. "She could tell there was something different about me, especially after she saw me heal someone. She didn't ever . . . we only, uh, hugged and kissed. Once."

"Huh. Lucky me," Dean muttered with his usual dry sarcasm.

Castiel felt something deep within him wither at the offhanded comment but he refused to identify it. After all, it was definitely a 'Dean'-type comment. He simply suggested logically, "Sleep, Dean. I will leave you as soon as I can."

Dean glanced at him questioningly then shrugged slightly and sagged back against him. He sighed heavily, "You know, as much as I can definitely get behind that suggestion, I can't with you in my . . . behind. Besides, there's, at the very least, a few things that we need to discuss. For instance . . ."

His voice trailed off when Castiel gently touched Dean's shoulder, putting the hunter into a grace-filled sleep. He held Dean against him while the hunter fell easily into an exhausted slumber. He lightly caressed Dean's cheek before turning his attention to the room outside his ringed prison, wondering where he could possibly go after this.

Crowley had definitely gotten his revenge on Castiel in the worst way possible. He slightly tightened his grip on Dean, knowing that their time together was limited. And, unlike the other times, once Dean left, Castiel would never see him again. Castiel wished that the King of Hell has simply killed him instead. Nothing would have been as torturous as the existence he was now destined to lead.

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_**I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please review and let me know what you think. **_

_**Next update isn't written yet so suggestions are welcome. Trying to complete my other neglected fic before returning to this one.**_


	4. Another's POV

_Oh, yeah, everything is unbeta'd. All my mistakes are my own.__ Also, didn't do quite as many re-reads and edits so there will probably be more mistakes than usual._

_Disclaimer: Kripke owns all Supernatural characters. I'm only borrowing them. _

_Pairing: Dean/Castiel - very graphic. This is my second attempt at something like this because this muse wouldn't leave me alone. Please let me know what you think, constructively._

_Overall Warnings: __Rated M__ for swearing, graphic sexual content with S and M undertones, implied forced sexual torture and other adult subject matter._

_This chapter swearing only._

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**Chapter 4 – Another's POV**

"Well, well, well, Cassie, this is a new look for you."

Castiel's head shot up in surprise at both the sudden voice booming out in the eerily silent warehouse as well as the appearance of the voice's owner. His wings instantly materialized and engulfed both his and Dean's nude bodies, hiding them from view. He instinctively growled at the approach of other beings while he and his hunter were in such a venerable state.

"I'm really not liking it," the voice continued with obviously disturbed emotions while it moved closer, only to pause and blink at Castiel's growl. "Yeah, definitely not liking it. Although, in the interest of complete honesty . . . not a real surprise, either."

"Gabriel," Castiel hissed in irritated acknowledgement. "How . . . It didn't work. The ritual . . . It didn't . . ."

"Not right away, no," Gabriel allowed nonchalantly. "After all, it takes a while to amass all this awesomeness. Plus, I'd been dead a while and you haven't been at full capacity for, what, a few years, at least."

Castiel blinked as he absorbed the information his previously dead arch brother imparted. He was very glad that the ritual worked but . . .

"Uh, Cas? Could you . . . um," Sam stuttered uncomfortably before trailing off.

Castiel focused on Sam Winchester, taking in Sam's focus which, of course, centered on Dean's unconscious body. Only Dean's sleeping face remained visible above Castiel's wings. He could tell that Sam was barely standing. The trials had definitely taken their toll on the younger Winchester.

He glanced at Gabriel and, once their eyes meet, he asked quietly, "Gabriel?"

Gabriel remained unmoved for a moment then snapped his fingers and Sam fell where he stood. His huge body did slow its descent slightly right before it hit the ground so it did not damage itself any more than it was before. Once it was at rest, it let out a long, deep breath as it finally relaxed into a deep sleep, which only proved how desperately both boys needed some real sleep.

Gabriel studied his younger brother the whole time, noting every emotion displayed on what several believed to be an emotionless face. He knew what had happened here but he couldn't get inside until Castiel had managed to rupture a few windows with his grace. The only way that Castiel's grace had been able to do that, beyond the ring of fire, was what he had done with the elder Winchester, which created a whole new messy can of oozing worms.

Unfortunately, Gabriel wasn't himself right now. He hadn't lied when he'd said that it took a while for him to gather himself back together. He wasn't anywhere near full power. Sure, he could easily put humans to sleep. That was like breathing. But reversing what had just happened here. There was no way he was up to that power yet.

"Castiel," Gabriel started hesitantly.

"Don't," Castiel snapped out harshly then sighed heavily and added with soul-deep remorse. "Please. Just. Don't. I know, Gabriel. I know."

Gabriel studied him a moment then asked softly, "How did he find the spell?"

"He managed to grab the Angel Tablet from me. He already had the prophet," Castiel explained tentatively then trailed off. "He . . . I . . ."

They both fell silent for a moment as they mentally analyzed the situation. Gabriel, who was never one for quiet time, started slowly, "I'm not at power, Cassie. I can't . . ."

"I know," Castiel interrupted abruptly and despaired slightly. "No one can. It's done."

Gabriel questioned uncertainly while searching for clues about Castiel's mental state, "So we accept this? Hate to break it to you, little brother, but don't think numbnuts here is going to be cool with this. Wait, did you . . .?"

"The _full_ ritual was commanded," Castiel answered sharply. Gabriel flinched in response before he cursed softly. Castiel closed his eyes briefly. He was so very tired which said a lot for an angel.

"Cassie," Gabriel began again reluctantly.

"No, Gabriel," Castiel insisted firmly as he opened his eyes again. He glanced down at Dean's peaceful face while he conceded, "He will not be 'cool' with this." He slowly raised a hand and caressed the sleeping hunter's face softly, memorizing the sight, texture and warmth. He continued in the same emotionless voice, "And he will not have to be."

After a moment, Gabriel questioned uncertainly, "Really? How so? I mean, it's complete, right?"

Castiel answered easily, "Yes, it is. Very much so." He meet Gabriel's confused gold eyes with his vibrant, certain, blue ones. "He will not have to be because he will not remember this. Any of this. Neither will Sam."

Gabriel's golden eyes widened enormously over the impact of that piece of knowledge. It went against . . . well, everything. After a stunned moment, he gasped then sputtered helplessly, "But . . . that . . . Cassie . . ."

"This will happen, Gabriel," Castiel insisted firmly. "It is the only way."

"But you don't have that kind of power," Gabriel argued the only point he could come up with that would matter to his stubborn little brother.

"We do," Castiel asserted stubbornly. "Together."

"Cassie," Gabriel cajoled, pleading for some logic in this screwed up (literally) situation. "Even if he doesn't know, he will feel . . ."

"The same pull toward me that he's felt since the first profound bond I made in raising him from Hell," Castiel finished stubbornly. "It will be more intense than before but he will put that down toward our developed friendship over the years. He will not think more of it. He will not let himself. And, if he does think of 'more', he will not act on it. As he always states adamantly, he is not gay."

"But you . . ." Gabriel continued to plea.

"Will accept the punishment required for my part in this fiasco," Castiel stated firmly.

"What part? It was commanded!" Gabriel argued with exasperation. "You had to obey. You had no choice. Heavens, I wouldn't have had a choice."

"I allowed the Angel Tablet to be taken," Castiel disagreed adamantly. "I allowed myself to be captured. I tried to . . ." He trailed off at the memory of almost killing his one and only friend. "I cannot cause him any more pain. I won't."

Castiel stared hard into Gabriel's eyes and commanded authoritatively, "You will help me wipe their memories of this event and everything leading up to it. You will do this as thanks for me bring you back and we will _NEVER_ speak of it again. We will never think of it again. Do you understand?"

Gabriel held his brother's eyes the entire time and saw all the pain, and regret, that Castiel tried to hide. He knew this wouldn't work. Not for long, anyway. But, in the end, he knew he couldn't say no his little brother right now.

"Fine," Gabriel spit out reluctantly. "But you will regret this. It will kill you, Cassie."

"Then that is my punishment as well," Castiel replied without any concern.

Gabriel rolled his eyes with exasperation at his brother's pathetic self-flagellation. "Whatever. Just so you know, this will take the last of the grace I've managed to gather. I'll have to go on extended vacation afterward. I won't be able to help anyone for a while, including you, when the effects of this idiotic decision start up."

Castiel stared at him a moment before he demanded harshly, completely unmoved by Gabriel's arguments, "Are you ready?"

Gabriel rolled his eyes again then snapped his fingers, resulting in the holy fire flickering out. He asked sarcastically, "Aren't I always? So, who do we lobotomize first? Sasquatch? Or boy toy?" He rubbed his hands with relish, trying to put some light-heartedness into this deeply screwed up situation.

"Dean."

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_**I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please review and let me know what you think. **_


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